


The Stars Are Very Beautiful, Above The Palace Walls

by IwaKitsune



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Breaks Fingers I'll Create The Content I Crave, Found Family, Gen, Niall-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating might go up depending but it'd be for canon-typical violence or so prolly, The Aegis group will appear later most likely, They do appear in this first chapter because prologue but are not the focus of this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IwaKitsune/pseuds/IwaKitsune
Summary: Mòrag is a concerned sister, even when her duties as Special Inquisitor take priority. After being unable to hide her unease, Rex comes up with an idea that might be unexpected enough to work.Or: In which the young Emperor of Mor Ardain gets sent some unforeseen support from the Garfont Mercenaries.{A sort of (semi?)canon-compliant continuation to "Matter"}
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue: A Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summary says, this is a kind of sequel to this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423100/chapters/72280662  
> Thanks again to Pigeon and Raydan for helping me with this idea, get ready lads we're in for the Found Family but also man it's gonna be a Situation.  
> {Don't have much written but there are ideas I wanna Touch so we will see how it goes! Comments or suggestions are appreciated :'3c Haven't put these fics in a collection cause that first one can stand alone, but that might change...}

Later that same day, after all the preparations they could do while on the battleship were finished, the Special Inquisitor and her Blade departed the vessel and went searching on the dock and central boulevard of Indol. The ship at their backs left the dock soon after, starting the long trip back to the Ardainian Titan.

They didn’t need to wander for long, catching sight of the artificial Blade lifting her arm and waving it stiffly back and forth two times to signal them where the group was, and then hearing Rex’s loud call soon after, coming from a small balcony to the side of the stairs where Poppi was standing. The group ran to meet them on the plaza, curious for their updates.

Mòrag could say she was expecting the group to be happy to hear she would still be able to accompany them for the time being after giving them an abridged version of the happenings inside the battleship, though she was slightly surprised at how eager Rex had been. Hearing him say he had been planning to ask her if there was any way for her to still go with them if she didn’t have a direct answer was heartwarming--like when the soldiers cheered or thanked her appearing when they were having a particularly rough time, be it in the battlefield or with a nasty superior. A good morale boost.

But as privately eager as she was to embark on this adventure, as happy as she was with the permission (opportunity) to follow her heart in something that called to her, there was still that worry nagging at the back of her mind. The thought of leaving Niall without any support left an ugly taste in her mouth, even if he had been adamant in telling her why she shouldn’t stay at the Palace.

She leaned against a wall near a number of crates by the docks as the rest of the group finished some last minute errands before finally setting off to Tantal, her arms crossing in front of her chest and Brighid standing by her side, deep in thought after her Driver aired her grievances with her.

“We can go by as soon as we’re able to, Lady Mòrag,” Brighid proposed, “it’s not as if we’re forbidden to set foot on the capital, and if we are to aid them, errands are sure to appear in Mor Ardain one way or another, especially in Alba Cavanich. Visiting the Palace would likely be a small detour at most.”

Mòrag nodded but didn’t stop a small sigh from leaving her. “As true as that might be, we know not how long that might take. I’m not going to rush them in possibly a far different direction for a simple worry.”

They both looked up as they heard steps rushing towards them, accompanied by a voice calling. “Mòrag! Brighid! I think we’re set to go after the captain of the ship finishes a couple more things, are you ready?” Rex asked, grinning up at them.

Mòrag remained quiet for a moment too long. “... yes.”

Rex stared at her for a couple seconds before squinting and tilting his head, crossing his arms as his grin melted to a frown. “... you don’t sound convinced. That’s not like you. What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Forgive me, Rex,” Mòrag said, straightening and crossing her hands behind her back, “don’t think I harbor regret in the decision to accompany all of you, it’s just...” she trailed off, the words stuck to her tongue.

“The safety of the Emperor is a pressing concern,” Brighid finished for her, “the Palace Guards will be on high alert, without a doubt, but there is still the possibility of something slipping past the cracks. It’s easy to miss details when one feels they are already ensured.”

Rex hummed, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. His face lit up and he snapped his fingers, catching the attention of both women. “I know it’s imperial matters and all, but what if we send someone on a mission, with the Garfont Mercenaries?”

“You are... suggesting to send mercenaries to the Palace,” Mòrag asked, tone flat and the beginning of a frown on her brow.

Rex winced a little but still gave a smile, resting his hands on his hips. “I mean, if you ignore the fact it’s all this high up the ladder, you kinda just want to have someone check over, right? You know, fresh eyes can see something that others would pass up? It’d be like... a special mission! Just need some set points on what you want, the extra details, and all that.”

“I suppose that is an option...” Mòrag muttered, looking away.

“If it’ll help you stay focused while we are in Tantal, it really would be no trouble. You’re part of us so it’d be like a family discount and all!” Rex said, grinning good-naturedly. “It might take a bit for someone to get on it, though, since it’s a pretty big task, so it might be better to send it as soon as possible while we’re still in Indol.”

“My liege, I humbly offer my services.” They all jumped in varying levels of surprise, looking up where the voice came from.

“Perceval?” Rex asked, looking up to the dark Blade peering down at them from atop one of the crates. “Oh, hey! I was wondering where you were, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to have heard the issue at hand,” he replied, leaping down to their level and facing Mòrag and Brighid. “I am capable of acting if you wish for someone to find any breach an assassin would see in defenses and advice to counter it, or an unexpected line of defense if it were necessary. There is a matter I wish to attend to in Alba Cavanich, from rumors I’ve gathered from merchants here, it would be of no consequence.”

“What do you say, Mòrag?” Rex asked, turning towards her. “You know him and have seen him in action, he’ll take it as seriously as any other mission.”

Mòrag shifted her stance a little, looking down in consideration. “It’s true, you would be able to point out anything that needed fortifying in our defenses, with your knowledge and skillset. Your strength and drive are remarkable as well.”

“Consider the case taken care of,” Perceval said, nodding curtly and turning away, starting to walk to another section of the dock’s plaza, “I’ll send a report at the first opportunity.”

“Wait, wait!” Brighid nearly squeaked, an undignified sound she would deny, before rushing to cut his path, “at the very least, let me debrief you on some crucial details that you need before you go off somewhere, even if the Palace is not your first destination.”

Rex turned to Mòrag soon after Brighid went after Perceval, managing to coerce his agreement and guiding him to a more private area at the outskirts of the plaza to talk with him. The Salvager smiled at her triumphantly. “See, that’s taken care of! Just gotta send an extra message to the Garfont Mercenaries so they know not to expect Perceval back for a while.”

“I also should send a message, let the Emperor know,” she agreed, nodding at him as he turned and sprinted away to find a place he’d pen down said message and find a suitable messenger. She turned on her heels as well and approached the ship they’d be taking, this part of the dock seemingly suitable enough for her purposes. She pulled out her ethercom--a small device meant for shorter communications, without the real ability to send images as the larger devices were capable of, but it was portable and fulfilled the purpose she needed.

* * *

It wasn’t too long after that that Brighid approached her again, looking at least a little calmer than before. Mòrag smiled at her, nodding in acknowledgment. “I’m glad this is at least partially taken care of, or will be in the near future at least.”

“Indeed. I was lucky enough to manage a connection with the battleship as well, they have been informed.”

“You already sent the message...” Brighid asked, balking a little. She knew her Driver was not the most delicate person when it came to delivering news of nearly any kind, especially if she had an end goal in mind, she’d cut to the chase and... depending on the situation... “Lady Mòrag, what exactly did you say.”

“’A Blade by the name of Perceval will be approaching the Palace in the near future, do not be alarmed. Stay safe.’,” Mòrag retold, hands behind her back in her relaxed at-attention stance. “Something succinct and brief, as I wasn't sure how long the connection would hold. Perceval is an imposing Blade, his appearance and abilities might be worrying, especially for someone who hasn't had the chance to interact with him in a meaningful manner."

Brighid rested her hands on her Driver’s shoulders, barely resisting the urge to shake her. Mòrag blinked, realization dawning in her face.

“That... came out far more threatening than intended.”

“You are so lucky I had the foresight to send him with a note myself.”

“Brighid, I owe you so much.”

“Love you too, Lady Mòrag.”


	2. Handwritten Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the head of the nation is a rather difficult responsibility, but one Niall is capable of handling with grace and efficiency... granted, it'd probably do him well to not have to deal with quite as many surprises.
> 
> Or: In which the Emperor gets told to chill a little and the Blade his sister mentioned arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple headcanons and rambling on here and also this was so fun to write too, my son I'm so sorry. Also if I get like, tidbits or details wrong feel free to correct me!  
> {Thank you for the kudos and reading <3}

The private dock in the vicinity of the Palace was one of the most refreshing sights Niall had seen in a while. It wasn’t that he disliked travelling, and truly, the battleship he had boarded was one of the best equipped and fastest of the Empire, meant to be a crucial vessel for the Emperor and others of stunningly high importance, but he was just simply glad to be back to more familiar an environment.

It hadn’t taken more than a couple days at most to reach Mor Ardain again, the trip back slower than the one to Indol as it lacked the same urgency that had made them force the engines. It was definitely a change of pace, glancing out the windows or walking on the few open sky areas and seeing the sea of white all around, a huge contrast with the view from the Palace or the plazas of the capital.

He hadn’t rested much during those days, much to the medic’s displeasure and concern. At least he had been pacing himself to as slow as he dared without getting too far behind or driving himself up the wall, and it wasn’t anything particularly physically straining; stacks of papers with report and orders and agreements to sign off, ethercom calls that didn’t last long but still felt like eternity with the budding headache behind his eyelids as every Senator tried to ask about the status regarding the attack in Temperantia, and their accompanying sneering wariness to what he might have agreed to.

(Many of them still thought him a foolish child, or the wall that kept them from getting away with trying something that sounded great on paper for them in particular. While some had a semblance of confidence in him, he was not naïve enough to not be aware that there were attempts to manipulate him and that some truly disliked him, but none would dare show their animosity too plainly. It mattered not, whether he was at his full health or not, he would be debating for the best courses of action to his goal.)

Thankfully, those calls tapered out as Senators filled each other in, and the injuries visible on his face were enough to lend credibility to his story. And at least a good portion of the Senate was cordial enough to not hound him too badly when they saw his state, but he knew the pseudo-peace wouldn’t last forever.

It was tiring and a tad overwhelming at times, but still manageable. He had managed before, he could now, and he would in the future if it were necessary. So, whether on the ship or in the Palace, Niall dove into the work and focused all his energy and attention on figuring out what needed to be done to return any semblance of balance in his Empire.

It was a little more difficult, tackling all of it by himself, but he could do it (he had to). Plus, Colonel Foirbeis had stepped up to give some insight and advice on information he had been given about different stations and fronts of the military. Niall was thankful for that. As much as he could learn and gather from reports and tutors, having someone who was more intricately connected with the military and how it should work, who knew what had changed or needed changing, was dearly useful; it was not his area of expertise, he could navigate political matters and strategies, but the full picture of the military was still a little out of his grasp.

It had always been more of Mòrag’s field, with her on-hand experience, or Aegaeon’s...

Colonel Foirbeis was a good man with a sharp head on his shoulders, who would know options that he was unaware of. That was good enough.

* * *

Hardhaigh Palace was an imposing building, beautifully built with tall and arcing structures, and providing defenses that would be extraordinarily difficult to breach by most means. It was familiar, home, and that was steadying enough as he tried to settle back to the rush he had been molded to since his crowning, cranked to even higher speed after the almost unleashing of the war.

With so many responsibilities, now without the excuse of inability or difficulty to receive reports and discussions, there wasn’t much time for him to be idle. It was for the better, maybe, as it also kept him from focusing too much on the small sounds and shifts, on the steps that fell strangely a little too far behind him.

Niall was used to having someone guarding his back at virtually any time, but the captain employed had a different way to carry themself than Aegaeon did.

He refocused intently on the paper in front of him, pushing back that thought as far back as he could. He couldn’t dawdle on that, couldn’t afford distractions currently, still needed to catch up.

A knock came to the door and the captain straightened, walking to it and listening to the person on the other side of the thick door before turning back to him, stance ramrod straight. “Your Majesty, Medic MacLeish requests a moment of your time.”

Niall sighed, leaning back on the chair and idly scratching at the healing wounds that seemed to itch every time the man was mentioned. The medic that had seen him in the battleship had been adamant about performing daily checks on his health since the first day and had kept his word and goal for well over a week, but most of the time he would either arrive early in the morning before Niall’s schedule got overrun, or late in the evening. To come in the middle of the day meant there was something of great importance. He supposed his health was at least somewhat on par with the rest of his responsibilities. Can’t do much if one is in poor health.

“Let him in.”

The man walked in with a brisk pace, this time without his Blade, while the captain remained by the door. As soon as he reached the table, the medic gave a quick bow. “Good day, Your Majesty. My apologies for interrupting you.”

“To you as well, Medic. Is there something you wished to discuss?” he asked politely, wringing his hands together on his lap as he waited for a reply. He would have stood to greet him properly, but more than once he had all but chided him to exert himself as little as possible.

MacLeish nodded, bringing up a clipboard he had under his arm. Niall couldn’t help but be grateful for the fact his uniform wasn’t like that of the guards, seeing that his expression wasn’t deeply troubled at least eased some of his worries on what he wanted to discuss. “If you recall, we had thought to have seen something unusual while on the check-ups and have been monitoring it since the first day,” the medic started, resting the clipboard on the table so Niall could see the writings as well.

“Yes, I do remember that. Have you found what you had been wondering about, then?”

“Correct, Majesty. And while it’s not life-threatening by itself, many factors may worsen the symptoms, which can be troublesome if not controlled. I believe it better to inform you of the findings as soon as possible as to help strengthen some points of importance.”

Niall nodded slowly, allowing a small frown on his otherwise neutral expression. “Proceed.”

“Let me begin by saying this: As you’re aware of the connections between Drivers and Blades, cases of a Driver outliving their Blade are mostly unheard of.” A heavy feeling plopped in his stomach and he couldn’t help grimacing a bit. The medic paused in sympathy for a moment but soon picked up where he had left. “However, there are some written records of these extremely rare cases. So few known ones throughout history, unfortunately, that it makes it an impossible task to know the reasons for them to occur. It is known that Blades are virtually unkillable under most circumstances, thanks to their regenerating abilities if there’s sufficient ether in their surroundings that they might be able to syphon, but even that has limits.

“But we know there is one sure way for a Blade to dissipate back into their Core, the most direct one: the death of the Driver and thus the split connection with the ether that had awoken them. Like I said before, there are counted cases in which a Driver outlives their Blade--miraculous and extremely rare cases in which the Drivers manage to return from the dead. Some believe it’s luck, that the Architect still has plans for them, others are more grounded and place all their gratitude to the advancements in medical technology and the areas on the Titans that are saturated with ether, believing that to have been a reason for their revival.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t think the information was interesting, it was that he really didn’t want to hear about these things currently. Things he knew and quite frankly did not want to think about. And it wasn’t like he was wondering how he revived--he knew how it had happened, had figured some things out, and had sworn not to mention it. “As fascinating as this information is, Medic, I must return to my duties soon...”

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” he said, clearing his throat a little, “point is, while there are few known cases, the records exist. These have allowed us to keep track of the possible symptoms that might present themselves on the survivors, symptoms that seem to appear after this strain to the body. To cut to the chase, when Shako and I first examined you, we saw something unusual in your ether flow, and our hunch of where it stemmed from seemed to be correct. Ether is life, any interruption of this caliber can disrupt the ether inside any given person.

“We are unsure if the flow inside you will even itself out, you are not of the age group the records mention and are otherwise in good physical health. The symptoms will present themselves as they would in a case of mild-to-moderate ether deficiency, depending on how much strain you put on yourself. You might know that it can appear as lowered defenses of the immune system, bouts of fatigue, soreness and ache of different body parts, though many had expressed to be centered on the ribcage...”

Niall paused, staring down at the tablet without really seeing it, one hand brought up and tapping distractedly at the middle of his chest where the emptiness he had felt for days remained. That would explain... a couple things, at least. “I imagine your advice would be to not strain myself too much, as to not exacerbate the symptoms.”

“I would strongly recommend you lower the stress levels you put yourself through, yes,” he said, straightening and crossing his arms, glancing at him warily. “Or at least to not push yourself past your limits. There are methods and medicines that can help control the symptoms of ether deficiency, I can set up some of said techniques to manage them as well, but they can only do so much if you’re putting yourself at your limit daily.”

Niall sighed, bringing one hand up and pressing it against his eye, willing away the mild migraine, “... I will see what I can do.”

The medic sighed even deeper, but there was only so much he could do as well. “That said, we would like to keep an eye on the symptoms that might appear and develop. In the future it might be turned to weekly check-ups, but as of right now it will continue with the daily schedule.”

Niall smiled wearily at him but nodded his agreement.

He snapped his fingers, lifting one of the papers on the tablet and shifting until he found the relevant passage. “Right, another happening for these Drivers that we found is that... there isn’t concrete evidence suggesting if they are capable or not of resonating with Core Crystals again. It stands to believe that, should one be able to resonate once, one should be able to replicate the results, but an affected ether flow could carry with it the risks that exist in a first resonance. The reports aren’t complete, unfortunately; and as much as we have scrounged for details, we are unsure if someone is able to resonate two separate times with the same Core Crystal.”

“Somehow, I had the feeling you would be saying that,” Niall mused, glancing over the paragraph. Since the very beginning, he had felt bizarre, between the missing ether and the guilt that ate at him. “Worry not, I have no intentions of resonating with any Core Crystals in the foreseeable future.” If ever again.

He simply was not meant to be a Driver, as much as he admired them and quietly longed for the partnership he had grown used to in the years he had been bonded with the imperial water Blade. It felt wrong to even think of attempting it, when he had already lost Aegaeon the way he had. The persistent, gnawing hole between his lungs was punishment and warning enough for having failed him.

The medic looked at him from the corner of his eye, as if trying to read his mind. “That said, Your Majesty, have you had food since early morning?” he asked, “I understand how easy it is to get lost in work and research, but your body is recovering and any medicine that I have prescribed would be better taken with the food.”

“Is it that time already...? I suppose I did lose track of time,” Niall replied, flipping back the papers and handing the clipboard to him. “Thanks for your concern, Medic, I will finish this report.”

It took longer than it should have for him to follow the request, as he tried to read a couple more reports than he had first meant to, before the captain hesitantly interrupted him to remind him of the medic’s orders. Reluctantly, Niall stood up and left the room.

* * *

Hardhaigh Palace was an imposing building. Always with guards in strategic positions, patrolling and refusing passage of anyone who didn’t have the appropriate credentials and reasons to be there. It also had several openings on higher levels and details that, for most people, would be nothing but impressive or opulent decorations, though some were useful structures for the workings on the inside.

For some others, they were tricky but usable footholds and makeshift catwalks.

Getting to them was a trial, using them was even more so. Any soldier would be able to see someone clinging to the walls if they so much as checked, and they carried long-range weapons; it wasn’t easy to break into the building itself via the windows, most of them locked closed and with panels thick enough that shattering them was nigh impossible and would call for everyone’s attention. Though not all the windows were that way, especially on the higher levels, which was understandable.

The building itself was highly secure, the guards were alert, it had been that way for the last two days that he had been watching from afar. Impressive, with the few cracks in the defense so small it would take a true expert or someone with inside help to get far.

The guards were also very quick to act at the first sign of suspicious behavior, something he found the day prior and could commend as well. But there were some chinks that could be polished.

The cloak of late evening would be as good as any cover, and the light of one of the highest rooms was still on.

* * *

It was getting late and Niall knew he should have left the room already. He had dismissed the guard from the room, telling them to stand guard on the other side of the door with their companion, so he might be able to focus on a particularly tricky matter. It wasn’t that he disliked company, he hardly cared if someone watched him work, but their high-strung gaze had been boring into their back a tad too much for his liking, even more than Aegaeon used to--he had grown used to that one. Though he understood why it was like that.

He had heard the guards talking about being extra cautious but hadn’t been told much about why that might be, so he asked Colonel Foirbeis the reason. He had been primarily hesitant to say much but reported that there had been a strange man in the vicinity of the Palace, and who had disappeared not too long after being seen without a word. As precaution, they would be keeping their eyes peeled.

Maybe it was nothing more than a traveler or resident entranced by the architecture of the Palace, which was not an uncommon occurrence, and they were all just a little bit too high-strung. Niall hoped that it was nothing but a coincidence, but was not foolish enough to dismiss it entirely either.

Regardless, it was late and he was tired of the paperwork but not tired enough to go rest yet, so he pushed through and tried to unwind a little and see if he could squeeze one last report before setting off for the night.

He needed a moment to breathe.

One of the things he enjoyed most of this room was how spacious it was, and the little passage that would give way to a small balcony with a stunning view of Alba Cavanich. From this far up, he couldn’t possibly distinguish details, but he could still see the dots of both electric and ether lamps lighting up patterns and marking streets and residential areas, the small moving shapes of people, wandering under the lights and disappearing behind the tall, dark shapes of buildings and towers and factories, snaking around like the catwalks and coming together like a gigantic puzzle.

Their silhouettes were impressive against the dark, fogged up skies, the few openings between the thick clouds allowed for a handful of stars to be visible. Earlier, when the sun was setting, the sky had been painted a gorgeous canvas of burned orange, with splashes of yellow, pink, lavender, cyan... Seeing it gradually change to the purple-black of night was something he tried to make time for whenever possible. It was beautiful in a way far different than other Titans, it was his home and he loved it, even when he knew that some of it was due to the unfortunate life expectancy of the Ardainian Titan.

It wasn’t too long before he pushed himself away from the railing of the balcony, sighing to himself. Either he left to rest for the night or attempted to read one more report--of many, so many of them were so similar to each other, but it was important for him to be aware of them to send the correct orders and forces where they were most needed.

Making his way to the table, something caught his attention.

A piece of paper, neatly folded, sat on top of the report he had last given up on.

His blood ran cold in confusion, his feet glued to the carpet as he stared at the innocent, misplaced note with as passive a mask as he could manage. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone walking into the room, but maybe... maybe his hearing was still a little affected, and the wind’s howl could be loud this high up.

Niall did not take a step closer to the table.

Instead, he started combing the room with his eyes. It was well lit, but there were still banners and columns that cast shadows on the walls, small hiding places for someone talented and sly enough. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

A cautious step forward, the handwriting strikingly familiar. His name in the script.

“Captain,” he called to the entrance of the room. It opened near immediately, with the familiar guard at the ready, their partner also clutching his gun in an at-attention stance.

“Majesty, are you ready to leave for the night?” they asked.

Relief flooded through Niall as he heard them speak, at least certain that it was the person and not some kind of impostor. He leaned a little on the table then, as fuzzy dark threatened the edges of his vision, but he hid that well enough, speaking up with a steady voice, “Captain, did someone enter the room while I was at the balcony?”

“Uh, no, Majesty.”

“Not through that entrance,” came a voice from somewhere to his side and the Emperor felt himself turn into a statue, “and I am astounded at the difficulty to accomplish it.”

It was almost impressive how aware he was of his heart skipping several beats, cold panic washing over his entire body and squeezing his chest, a strange sensation like having his head inside a bubble muffling his hearing with a dull ringing. In his defense, he didn’t flinch or jump. And in the couple moments that it took for the dread to subside enough to let him breathe and the blurriness of his vision to be blinked away, a deeply unfamiliar and terrifying man in strange armor had kneeled before him, both guards having rushed in and having their guns pointed at him.

No, not just a man.

“Identify yourself, immediately!” the captain snarled, finger on the trigger of their gun. Niall realized it was a stasis net one. The talk with the medic from days prior came to mind. “Or we will use lethal force!”

The Blade raised his head, but not towards the Captain; deep set eyes in the strangest yellow color met the Emperor’s from under the red helmet, marked with a rounded, blue symbol flowing with ether. He spoke with a tone so calm it was almost soothing, “my name is Perceval.”

Under his running pulse, Niall heard himself speak, “’Perceval’...? That name, where did...”

“Wait, a Blade named Perceval!” the second guard said suddenly, turning to look at the captain, “Special Inquisitor Mòrag warned us about--”

“About my deployment to aid you in your efforts to protect the Emperor, correct,” Perceval said, with utmost confidence and clarity to his tone, but didn’t make a move to stand back up. Neither guard lowered their weapons. The Blade continued piercing the Emperor with his eyes. “If you require further proof of my word, the note provided by Brighid should offer what you seek.”

Numbly, Niall reached for the note.

‘ _Emperor Niall, may this note find you well. Lady Mòrag and I have shared concern for your state, and the Aegis’s Driver, Rex, had suggested this. The one to give you this note is named Perceval, and he is a Blade of Rex himself. His expertise in stealth and ability to detect weak points could prove invaluable for strengthening the Palace’s defenses, and his battle prowess is commendable, even without a Driver by his side. He can serve as an unexpected defense and possesses knowledge of most any possible method that could be employed to try and bring you harm furtively, and how to prevent them. He will keep you safe from harm._ ’

There was a small burn at the bottom left of the note, in a peculiar shape like it had been pinched between the fire Blade’s fingers in an extremely specific way. A conspicuous little signal that Brighid used to sign notes, to ensure the receiver would know it came from her.

He sat down on the chair, legs finally giving up from under him, though the movement fluid enough to not show as nearly collapsing. “Lower your weapons. Perceval speaks the truth. Should I presume you were the suspicious person who had been looking at the Palace before?”

Perceval stood up, crossing his arms. “Seen and driven away swiftly, of which I am respectfully impressed. Almost any possible opening has been covered, I have few pointers to give before I take my position as defense.”

Niall nodded. “I suggest reporting your presence and suggestions to Colonel Foirbeis. He should be the first to know, as to be able to judge and implement changes if he deems them as necessary, as well as inform you of what might be expected from you. Give him the note.” He folded the paper again and offered it to the dark Blade.

The captain called for the Blade to follow them after he took the paper, marching out of the room with him. As soon as their steps became faint and faded down the hallway, Niall rested his elbows on the table, pressing his forehead to his crossed arms, a shuddered exhalation out of his lungs, trying to shake off the nauseous, hazy feeling.

“Your Majesty, are you okay...?” the soldier left in the room asked gingerly, glancing over to him.

“Recent war councils have been easier on my heart than this,” Niall lamented quietly without raising his head.


	3. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haunting similarities between people and situations and things, the new and the old.
> 
> Or: In which there are assessments and reminders of many kinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to figure out a timeline for these things is a bigger mess than one would think huh... that said, I think I got a kinda solid grasp on some details that might be relevant for this story. Again, thanks for reading and for the kudos! I'd love to hear thoughts on this, but just knowing someone read it is nice :'3c

During the day, Niall was kept busy with paperwork and meetings and decisions that needed to be made and considered. He had grown used to it with the years, aware of so much more than someone his age should have to be, and with choices that weren’t fair for anyone, even those double or triple his years. But he had been taught by tutors and his parents before they died, and had support from people he could trust; if nothing else, he knew he could endure the barrage and was clever enough to avoid most of the worst options.

It was, fortunately, not something he disliked, though he would be far happier to not have everything be in such a precarious balance as it was currently. The strain of it didn’t truly assuage with time or experience, and there were days where his fatigue was felt more than usual. Recent weeks had proven to be a trial in every way, especially without having access to some of the support he leaned on the most; Niall found his energy low, between the pressure of work and expectations, and his ongoing recovery--he was mostly healed, though not without leaving marks, the scars were light against his skin for the most part, though the one on his face kept its pinkish coloration as he seemed unable to stop touching it distractedly while working, and the burns that would never really leave even if their harsh color should dim with time.

By all means, with his current levels of fatigue, one would hope that exhaustion would keep dreams away. And yet.

Night terrors still haunted him, visiting him nearly every night since the summit in Indol. The memory of heat and puncture and empty came to him in different manners, and all just as sudden and unavoidable. He much preferred the times where it felt like he had just closed his eyes and in less than a blink it was already time to prepare for the next morning.

And so, Niall sat on his bed, trying to steady his breathing and heart as he gently pushed his clammy palm against the slightly aching burn. The room was familiar and dark still, with the sun not yet peeking over the horizon, most of the light that was being cast blocked by the drawn curtains; his sleeping quarters were large and comfortable, with furniture of sturdy wood and metal ranging from the dresser holding the more rarely used imperial outfits to large bookshelves heavy with tomes of fiction and history and many genres in between, one of such books resting on the nightstand next to his bed, and the desk close to the window still holding some of the reports he had brought along with him on the previous night in a poor attempt to keep his thoughts from swirling on what had happened.

Ah, last night. He was almost certain that the nightmare had something to do with the encounter with the... intense Blade who’d had a note from Brighid, that Mòrag had sent his way. Well-intentioned, perhaps, but far too... much. Too much something in the way he had made his entrance, too close for comfort. A shiver ran up his spine and he was both as grateful for the fact no one was in the room as he was saddened knowing it would remain that way. Maybe he had grown a little too used to having...

No, it wasn’t the time.

Feeling his heart slowly settle back behind the cage of his ribs, he rubbed his eyes and glanced at the covered window, wondering how long it would take before the retainer came knocking on his door to inform him of the approaching time for his meal, and of the medic’s impending arrival before that. Was it early enough still that he could afford lying back down? No, probably not. The color of the curtains was warming up.

Always so early, but he was expected to be up and about as soon as possible each morning for different matters. There were hardly enough hours in the day for everything that needed to take place.

He shuffled quietly to the edge of his bed and stood up, taking a couple moments to stretch his back and limbs before fixing the blankets and covers--they were too tempting otherwise, he had learned the hard way--and hurrying to the bathroom connected to his room to refresh himself a little. He heard the first knock on door as he washed his face, hardly needing to pause as the voice of the retainer told him about the time and that the medic would soon come.

A couple minutes after, the second knock on the door.

“Come in,” Niall said, having already made sure he was presentable enough--putting on all the garments and decorations that his imperial attire demanded would just make the check-up take longer, so he had simply changed out of his sleepwear and into the usual undershirt, legging, and shorts, and laid all the extras on the edge of the bed where they would be easy to reach.

The door opened and closed, silence following it.

Niall paused from straightening the long-sleeved shirt, turning around. His eyes widened and he took a step back, nearly stumbling back onto the bed when the back of his leg hit the edge, ending up sitting with a clumsy fall.

“It is careless to grant permission without asking for identification,” the Blade from the night prior said, standing with his arms crossed by the door, keen eyes inspecting the room.

Any words he could have had were stuck in his throat as a dizzy spell racked through his head. His shoulders tensed up and he took a deep inhalation, letting it out slowly, eyes closed. When he opened them again, the Blade had moved a little closer, looking down at him with intense, examining eyes. As if looking for his weaknesses, finding each chink that could be used to strike him down.

The look on his face might have flashed for a moment to resemble one of a cornered bunnit, before he steeled and centered himself again, trying to ignore the suddenly too loud pounding of his heart. Somehow, as cryptic as Mòrag’s warning had been, he was glad for it--Brighid's as well. Surely, if he hadn’t had at least some level of warning for this, he’d have died twice over from sheer terror. He could handle a scare, but not two of this intensity this close together. It was far too early in the morning too.

“The guards patrolling this area are quite competent and focused,” the Blade continued, either oblivious to the Emperor’s fear or, much more likely, uncaring about it. He stood to his intimidating full height, giving a single nod, “I doubt even I would have made it far if not for the fact your colonel informed them of my presence.”

That brought a sliver of comfort to him, as he sighed through the fluttering heartbeat still roaring in his ears and inside his head. “If an assassin managed to infiltrate this deeply, I would assume that I’d have died before even the retainer knocked, if they had any hope of leaving the Palace grounds.”

The fact that he’d hope his quarters to be as safe a location as they could be was also an important point, one he decided not to voice. It wouldn’t do him any good if he thought the area where he was most vulnerable was so easily breached without at least some warning.

“You’re Perceval,” Niall said, more a statement than a question. Perceval nodded, piercing eyes still focused on him. He remained on the bed, not quite trusting his legs yet, but calmly folding his hands over his lap. “I will assume Special Inquisitor Mòrag mentioned me mostly by title, so I’ll introduce myself: my name is Niall Ardanach, current Emperor of Mor Ardain. To have sent you like this... the note mentioned you being a Blade of Rex’s, correct?”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. I’m here by request of Mòrag and permission of my liege.”

“Sent to guard me?” he asked with a mild hum to his tone, curious.

“In a sense,” Perceval confirmed, crossing his arms again. The lines of ether on his body shone brightly blue in the still mostly dark room. It was almost comforting. He continued speaking, “she expressed concern for your wellbeing, and I offered my blade and experience.”

Niall nodded, lowering his eyes momentarily though not quite taking his attention away from the other. With a quiet voice that was probably not meant to be heard, he wondered, “Most of the defenses and teams chosen were trained or handpicked by her and those she trusted. Has she so little faith in her own choices?”

“I believe it’s something different, something more human.” Niall blinked and looked up to meet the Blade’s eyes, slight surprise coloring his expression. Perceval continued, still with his arms crossed and his voice serious and solemn, “Her concern overshadowed her logic in a delicate matter. Remarkable as she is, she is still grappled by her human nature; calculated matters might require something more to settle peacefully should one’s intuition be disquieted, whether it is erroneous or not. And to ease an ally’s mind, it isn’t unusual for one to offer assistance.

“Thus, she did not send for me, or meant to belittle the abilities of those here or yourself. She reluctantly expressed worry and I personally offered myself, so that all of them would be able to remain focused on the goal they needed to reach for.”

A quiet lull fell in the room as Niall thought, entwining his fingers to subdue the slight shaking that remained there. “... She had been very uneasy, last we talked. That’s... believable. The note Brighid sent you with had some information, but what were your orders?”

“To ascertain the Palace’s defenses and provide a line of defense should it be necessary.”

Before Niall could bring together the words for another question, the third knock sounded on his door that morning. He perked up immediately to look at it, almost as if surprised, and glanced back at Perceval only to see him disappear in a gust of black smoke. He stood quickly, head turning from one side to the other trying to see where the Blade could have gone, before flinching a little as the knock came again.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke up, “Yes?”

“Emperor Niall, it’s time for your check-up,” came the familiar tone of the medic.

Flipping from realization to dismay, he finally settled in his mostly calm mask and sighed for a half second, sparing another quick sweep around the room before replying, “Come in.”

* * *

The visit went as well as he could expect. Which was to say--

“I cannot, in good conscience, permit you to work today, Majesty.”

Poorly.

Between the nightmare, both visits of the dark Blade, and the fact he wasn’t entirely certain if he was still in the room or not, Niall was jumpier than he would ever allow himself show, and even though he could hide or mask most signs, the accelerated heartrate and the lightheadedness were two he couldn’t endlessly battle off at once.

Still, he all but glared at the medic standing before him as he handed his clipboard over to his Blade, who was nodding her agreement. His hands tightened to fists on his lap. “With or without medical clearance, there are still far too many matters to attend to for me to laze about.”

Medic MacLeish frowned at him, looking more concerned than bothered by his words or glare. “Majesty, you know I’m only stating facts concerning your health in the long run. The nation needs you and, if you continue straining yourself like this, you’ll collapse. People will be thrown into panic if that were to happen.” That made the boy falter his cold stare, his shoulders rising up a little as he lowered his eyes with a scowl.

The Blade by the medic’s side nodded. “Rest isn’t ‘lazing about’ if it’s for your health, Your Majesty. It is an important part of everyone’s life. If not for your own safety, please allow yourself a break from this stress for the stability of your people. At least one day.”

“... there are still urgent matters that require my immediate attention,” he argued weakly, though it was almost more of a rue.

“Your dedication to your nation is admirable, Emperor Niall,” MacLeish said, shaking his head a little with a sigh of his own, “but Mor Ardain won’t shatter if you take one day without meetings or plowing through paperwork. At the very least, refrain from it for this morning. I’ll check on you in the early afternoon, and we will see from there.”

“You are aware I can quite easily disregard your advice.”

“Why yes, but most if not all the Palace staff can be informed to divert senators and consuls away for the day, if a matter isn’t of life and death.” The medic couldn’t help the slight tug of his lips on a small smirk as Niall struggled not to pout. The fact that had been a method used by Brighid and Niall himself to force Mòrag to rest when she was truly spent was an ironic echo that didn’t go unnoticed. “And if I may be so bold as well... I also would advise for you to exercise.”

The wry line of displeasure softened to a frown of confusion. “Exercise? Doesn’t that directly contradict your order of not straining myself?”

Niall almost sighed as the medic puffed out his chest, clearly about to go on another short spiel, and instead he simply listened. “It is proven that exercise promotes a healthy body and mind, when properly done. Many people practice different methods as it helps clear the mind, incentivizes focusing on the present, and strengthen physical abilities and self-image.”

“And by ‘exercise’, you mean...?” he asked, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes. Most Ardainians could be quite... intense, with many things.

The medic huffed a little in good humor. “If I were to tell you to do one of the full drills the soldiers do, I’d also hand you back my license and march myself to the dungeon for treason, Majesty,” he said, shaking his head a bit. “No, while it is known that physical activities are good for the self, it is unwise to throw oneself into something like that without preparation. Like I mentioned before, it needs to be properly done.” He paused again for a moment, bringing a hand up to his chin in thought.

Shako, his Blade, peeped up lightly. “Permission to speak, Your Majesty?”

Niall looked at her, quirking his brows a little. “Permission granted.”

She bobbed her head twice in gratitude. “If I’m not wrong, you have abstained from dueling lessons, though not quite by your own choice.” It had been quite a couple months since he had visited the training grounds for that, truthfully. Something always pulled him away from it one way or another, and his advisors were more focused on matters of words and politics than weapons, primarily because there were others taking over those. “I believe it would do you well to regain some mindfulness of your own physical state, which said training can provide, as well as it being a great method to relieve stress.”

“That is a great option, actually!” MacLeish agreed, grinning at his Blade before turning back to Niall. “Personalized training so you won’t go beyond your capabilities as well as a way to gain confidence and stamina on specific areas, not to mention it would allow you polish your fighting prowess.”

Niall thought for a moment, bringing a hand to curl in front of his mouth as he considered it. Ardainian royalty were known to be able to fight at a moment’s notice. They didn’t simply order their armies into battle, they could join them, though the practice of going to most battles themselves had dwindled with time and the more cautious of the imperial leaders.

Still, each member learned their way around weapons and fights from a relatively young age, discovering which style suited them best to use their full potential. Plus, the fact that if they were to be ruler, they needed to be a Driver, and to brings out the best of a Blade’s potential, one needed to learn their weapon. Thus, swordsmanship was the rule for the most part, and other weapons were dabbled in almost as an afterthought.

He... didn’t really want to try out the katanas. (He could wield them, he had learned for years, and it would only take a couple minutes for him to remember and fall back on muscle memory. But he didn’t... it felt wrong, to try and use a katana, when the one who had taught him for years to master it wasn’t there at present.)

A fleeting thought of the simple fact he didn’t have a Blade by his side. He had the aptitude, but he wasn’t a Driver, he shouldn’t have the crown. The worry was dismissed, discarded. Now was not the time to ponder if someone would debate his right to the throne.

“I will bring it up with Colonel Foirbeis, he might have suggestions for that,” Niall finally said, allowing his hand drop back on his lap.

MacLeish smiled at him. “Glad you’re open to the suggestion, Majesty. But talking about recommendations...”

Niall sighed, frowning at his hands for a couple moments. “... I will refrain from attending to senators or reports for the next couple hours, but I’m expecting your return by early afternoon.”

“I will count that as a victory. Would you prefer I send word to bring your meal here?”

“No, I will go myself. Perhaps the walk will help me clear my thoughts.”

“As you wish. I will see you in a couple hours, Your Majesty.” MacLeish bowed, the gesture mirrored by his Blade, before both turned to leave the room, the door clicking closed behind them.

Rubbing his face, Niall allowed himself flop back against the covers, staring at the ceiling. He was often good enough at pacing himself that needing a sick day seldom occurred; usually he would need to feel far worse than he did currently to agree he needed one, and any physician who was in contact with either him or his sister would be aware of how that ran in the family, but for them to be so insistent then... perhaps it was less foolish in the long run.

And he needed to address his exhaustion, which he had been pushing to the back of his mind as much as he physically could.

He sat up again after a minute, Perceval’s silhouette standing by the entrance of the room. The look in the Emperor’s eyes was more curiosity than surprise or the fear that had flooded through him earlier. “You were here from the beginning. How did Shako not detect you?” he asked, “I know Blades are able to sense when there are others nearby, especially other Blades, and changes in the ether on different levels such as when an art or ability is utilized.”

“You know of Blades’ abilities,” Perceval mused, giving a single nod of something like approval. “Then you are also aware that said abilities can be perfected in the manners required. My stealth is well practiced. Few would be able to take notice of my presence, more so when they aren’t trained for it and I do not will it.”

“I had read that some dark Blades were able to, in a sense, black out their presence so they were more difficult to distinguish, but if I must guess... you hide it expertly in the natural shadows than create a cloak of your own, which would be more conspicuous?” he hypothesized. “And if you are able to hide yourself so effectively, you would be able to know what subtle signs to be on the lookout for as well.”

“Indeed.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, though he only allowed the smallest smile to tug at his lips. “Fascinating. I wasn’t aware it was possible to perfect it in such a way... I wonder if...” His thoughts trailed off, expression falling to neutral and gaze lowering lightly as he rummaged a question. The silence stretched and the Blade came to the conclusion he was not going to voice it, as he got back on his feet and reached for the clothes on the bed.

* * *

Perceval, for his part, watched the Emperor attentively as he finished preparing himself to exit the room, likely thinking of the appearance he was always meant to maintain even if he wouldn't be staying out for long or meeting anyone of importance. The fact he didn't seem bothered by him being in the room spoke of habit, and it extended him the chance to study him for a couple seconds in the new light of the medic's visit. He noted little visually that could explain the need for a check-up, other than the wounds that hardly had attention paid to them, but the more he focused, the more he could sense a stutter in the ether, the smallest signs of straining with certain moves or efforts. Fragility, stiltedness.

“You didn’t mention my presence in the room to your guests,” Perceval pointed out, his voice neutral enough it was almost an accusation.

“A way to test your ability to blend in and go unnoticed, if you will,” Niall replied easily, shrugging on the over-shirt and moving the rest of the unnecessary ornaments to rest on top of a dresser for the time being.

The Blade lifted his head minutely. Quick, clever answer. Was that an excuse or the actual reason? Perceval wasn’t in the position to question it... Directly, at least.

“The concern shown by those who have sent me is borne of heartfelt care. The defenses of your soldiers and abode are many, and irrationalism doesn’t seem to bear your name. Is your health the reason for my deployment here?”

Niall froze, turning to look at him with a smooth, sharp turn, chin lifted slightly. “You are not to mention my diagnosis to anyone, including the Special Inquisitor and all of her companions.”

“So it is a new development.”

The way he clenched his jaw was subtle, but not enough to go unnoticed. The look he sent the Blade’s way was as close to a glare as a calm mask allowed. “Irrelevant. You are not to mention this to them.”

“Pride keeps you from showing weakness.” And isn’t that something that most leaders strive for? To not let their drawbacks be seen?

“No.” The answer made Perceval pause, tilting down his head minutely to stare plainly at the boy. Niall, for his part, was as serene as he could possibly be, standing straight with his hands crossed behind his back, quirking his brows ever slightly in something that could almost be perceived as challenge. “To ease an ally’s mind, one might have to keep some topics untouched, unless they are of importance to discuss. My condition will not worsen if I take the precautions needed, and even if I didn’t, it would still not happen anytime soon. You came here to allow your allies to focus fully on what they needed to, I’m doing the same.”

Quick, clever answer. Perceval was not expecting quite this sharp a wit from someone who looked so young; while his Driver seemed to be of similar age, he was not as quick to the draw with words, and neither were most of his companions, or even those young individuals in Garfont Village.

The pause stretched between them for half a minute, and then a small smile tugged at the Emperor’s lips. Won that round. The Blade allowed his arms fall by his sides, accepting the reasoning, though neither agreeing to nor denying the order.

Niall shook his head a little, allowing his arms relax to his sides rather than keeping his own stiff posture. “Nevertheless, ah... I’m meant to go for my meal, if you’d like to accompany me, you’re welcome to. At least some of the palace’s staff must be made aware of your presence, so they won’t sound a false alarm to the guards.”

“As you say, Your Majesty.”

* * *

When Niall opened his eyes again, his room was colored a deep, warm burned gold as light tried to filter through the still closed curtains, thick enough to make the room dark even with the near noon sun shining bright. He was less tired than he had been in the early morning, and had managed to avoid any kind of dream for those precious hours of rest; he felt better than before, if a tad disoriented.

It wasn’t very common for him to be allowed to sleep until late, and he had been tempted to do something other than sleep--a few reports were on his desk in his room, it could have been easy to read them over, or he could have gone ahead and talked with Colonel Foirbeis or someone about the retaking of his lessons, or even simply decide to not think of either of those and continue reading the book that sat on his nightstand, there to distract him from present worries and let him lose himself amongst its pages... but for one reason or another, he laid down on the bed instead and that had spelled his doing for the rest of the morning.

He had to wonder, momentarily, if these extra hours would make it harder for him to sleep at night, but that thought was distracted as he heard a knock at his door. “Emperor Niall, are you awake?”

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, yawning into his hand as he scratched idly at his burn. He replied through the yawn, trying to clear his tone as quickly as possible. “Yes, I am. What is it?”

“Afternoon approaches and we were wondering if you would be interested in having your meal at the usual time or would rather postpone it,” said the retainer through the still closed door.

He took a moment to consider it. “Perhaps not something heavy, but at the usual time would be perfect, thank you.”

“Understood, Your Majesty. And you, sir? Would you be joining as well?” Niall blinked at the still closed doors, confused.

It quickly changed to surprise as a calm, smooth voice replied: “If it is not a problem, then.”

By the time Niall had walked to and opened the door, the retainer had already left the hall, and he was met with the figure of Perceval standing guard to the right, arms crossed and glancing at him with one strange, yellow eye from under the helmet.

“You were standing guard...?”

“Serving as a line of defense.”

“I suppose...” Niall almost mentioned the passing thought of if he wasn’t meant to stay out of view, or if he should have been inside the room as well, and decided against it for a number of reasons.

“You slept soundly, I presume?” Perceval asked instead, breaking the silence that had started to settle, and earning a nod as reply. “Good. Let me inform you that there were no urgent matters during that time that required you to awaken.”

That was... strange, in a sense. There always seemed to be someone in the Palace or the Senate or really a number of sources that wanted his opinion or for him to make choices. “Did someone try to call for me?”

“Yes.” Ah. “They were no urgent matters and were swiftly dealt with.”

Dealt... with? “I’ll assume you sent them away?” He received an affirmative. Better than the other option to said word choice. Niall smiled a little instead. “Thank you, Perceval.”

“I also took the liberty of contacting the Colonel. He is aware of your choice to resume weapon’s training, and should have a report and options for you by tomorrow’s noon at the latest.”

Oh.

A vague feeling of deja vu hit him. It quickly fade away. There was no white and blue, it was red and black. His smile turned more practiced.

“I appreciate it.”


End file.
